


Dominion

by Love_andbalance



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: But so soft together, Dark Reylo, Everybody's Going to Learn a Lesson, F/M, Graphic Mentions of Death and Violence, Humiliation, Inappropriate boardroom meeting behavior, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Loss of Virginity, Murder Dyad, No Beta, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Imbalance, Rey is Not Nice Either, Rough Sex, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, We Die Like Men, nonlinear storytelling, sith princess rey, slight daddy kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:55:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28161285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Love_andbalance/pseuds/Love_andbalance
Summary: Sith princess Rey Palpatine was given as gift to the new Supreme Leader, Kylo Ren. Her grandfather intended for her to be a distraction but he didn't plan on Rey having such a strong connection with Kylo that she'd be willing to give her loyalty to him instead. Now, a spy has been discovered working against the First Order and Kylo's done playing games. Everyone is going to be forced to choose sides and he's going to show all of them exactly what it means to be the most powerful man in the galaxy.**This started off as one smutty scene and has grown to be a nonlinear story of a dark dyad in love**
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 42
Kudos: 205





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based on this prompt by the Random Reylo Prompts account on Twitter- 
> 
> Sith Princess Rey and Daddy!Kylo fuck right in front of my salad
> 
> *** Please don't judge me too harshly for this, it's just a fun little smut story that really isn't meant to be taken that seriously.

Rey Palpatine moved silently down the corridor of the First Order’s flagship, the Supremacy. Unlike the booted stormtroopers that shadowed her on either side, her constant accompaniment of guards that flanked her every move, her bare feet offered up no sound in the smooth black floors.

If it hadn’t been for the few seconds following each step where her feet left a warm and hazy crescent moon of a footprint, it would have been impossible to tell that she had ever been there at all.

Her grandfather had never let her wear shoes, though she knew she had at some point in her life. Before he had come and found her, when she lived on that horrid desert planet with her filthy junk trader parents. She was sure that she had worn shoes then, meant to protect her feet from the blistering sands.

Palpatine had taken her shoes and replaced her ragged desert clothes with fine gowns of the softest materials. Every pebble had been swept away, every crack in the floors smoothed over. There was nothing to protect her feet from and they had grown soft and tender, unprepared to handle the rough, rocky surface of the planet above the Sith temple- if she had tried to run, she would have been barefoot and in agony. Certain not to make it more than a few paces before the cultists had dragged her back inside.

Her grandfather was a clever man, and he knew all too well that there was more than one way to make a prisoner. Taking her shoes had been the first of many things that he had done to keep her soft, keep her docile, keep her weak.

She had believed that she would never be allowed to leave Exegol again until word had arrived at the ancient Sith stronghold that Palpatine had lost his clone puppet, Snoke, to an unexpected turn of events. The apparent master of the First Order, Snoke had been a necessary part of Palpatine’s plan to return to power, a plan that had been placed in serious jeopardy when Snoke’s apprentice had cut him in half in his own throne room and left the body there to rot.

Or so her grandfather had told her when he’d ordered her to pack her things and placed her on a ship headed straight to the Supremacy. She’d been a gift, a token if entirely deceptive gesture of peace toward the new Supreme Leader, her virgin cunt meant as a distraction to keep Kylo’s head turned away while Palpatine reset his pieces on the board.

She had believed, at least at first, that her grandfather’s plan must be working. Kylo had taken to her immediately, nearly splitting her in two as he fucked her roughly into his bed every night, but it hadn’t taken long for her to begin to see beneath the surface of his mask. He was well aware of what Palpatine was doing, and her grandfather wasn’t the only one maneuvering pieces in this dangerous game.

She followed a familiar path, one of the few that she’s allowed to walk in the seemingly infinite winding corridors of the Supremacy, until she arrived at the room that he had summoned her to. She’d been here before and the long black table of the boardroom was surrounded by faces that she recognized, even if she had never learned their names.

Kylo had made it clear that she didn’t need to know them. They knew her, knew who she was and what she represented, and that was more than enough. He didn’t want his beautiful ornament to concern herself with petty concerns like the names of his generals.

She tipped her chin up as she walked by, squaring her shoulders pridefully as they watched her pass. The thin black fabric of her gown clung to the curves of her breasts and the gentle rounded slopes of her hips. Her back was bare, despite the constant chill of space, and she could feel several dozen eyes boring into her skin.

It irritated her, despite Kylo’s instructions that she should ignore it, his assurances that they were beneath her and therefore of no consequence. She couldn’t will away her feelings on his command, but she followed the instructions he had given her, as she always did, and ignored the stares as she glanced at the head of the table, expecting to see Kylo give her an admonishing shake of his head as he usually did if he sensed her temper was rising toward his staff, but his place at the table was empty.

He always arrived before she did, his mask turning to watch her as she crossed the room to his side, and she faltered at his absence, hesitating for a barely noticeable moment as she contemplated what she should do, but it was enough for one of the three loyalists Palpatine had sent with her to keep an eye on Kylo to smirk at her uncertainty.

Rey moved to her usual position beside Kylo’s chair and turned to wait, calmly staring down General Pryde and trying not to let him see any further vulnerability from her. Palpatine’s cultists had never given her the respect that Kylo’s officers did, a fact that infuriated her.

They knew, more than the others, that her status in Palpatine’s life had been nothing more than that of a lamb raised for slaughter. The First Order may have viewed her a spoiled Sith princess, and in some ways perhaps she was, but Kylo’s rebellion had been a fortuitous turn of events for her, giving her a purpose beyond becoming a sacrifice in some arcane Sith ritual.

She’d always known that was her most likely fate, and internally she had raged against it, but the prick of the med droid’s needles when they dosed her with whatever concoction her grandfather used to give her had been enough to keep her drowsy and compliant until she’d been sent to Kylo instead.

The weeks since her arrival on the Supremacy had been like waking from a dream, with Kylo’s gloved hand guiding her back to reality and herself. He was the first thing that she had seen clearly, had truly felt, since her parents had died.

He had been awed when he’d felt the first stirrings of her connection to the Force, taking off his helmet to smile at her in surprise, but even more so when he’d identified her connection to him. Something Palpatine hadn’t realized, hadn’t been able to sense because it was buried so deeply under the tranquilizers that he’d dosed with so religiously.

He had gravely miscalculated, and Rey had been all too eager to put herself and her newly discovered power into Kylo’s hands. Once she’d started getting stronger, and her mind clearer, her newly awakened instincts told her that while he was ruthless and destructive, he would use those qualities to keep her safe if she would simply give herself over to his keeping.

She’d had to make a choice and she’d chosen him. He was going to kill her grandfather and she was going to help him to do it, help him claim his place as the undisputed power in the galaxy. She would no longer be a spoiled Sith princess, but a vengeful empress.

Kylo had promised.

If Rey had learned anything since she’d come here, it was that Kylo always kept his promises.

The unpleasant smirk on Pryde’s face disappeared when the door hissed open again and Kylo strode into the room. It was impossible to tell his mood behind the black and silver ambiguity of his mask, but his muscles were coiled and tense and Rey could feel the anger and disappointment that spiked off of him into the Force.

She raised a brow at his entrance, her slight puzzlement turning to genuine curiosity when he raised an arm and tossed the severed head of a being whose species she could not identify onto the boardroom table with a sickening squelch. Dark blood pooled on the glinting black surface and no one spoke as he walked quickly to the head of the table, dropping without a word into his seat.

Beside him, to those looking on, she was nothing more than an ornament, a bauble that had value because it was part Palpatine, and she played the part, sitting prettily on the arm of his chair as his arm wrapped around her waist and his fingers dug possessively into her hip bones.

Kylo tipped his head, looking at the rows of unsure faces as they tried and failed not to sneak furtive glances at the head that lay grotesquely on the table in front of them.

“We had a spy,” he said calmly, his voice distant and modulated through his helmet. “I am the Supreme Leader of the First Order, my grip on this galaxy is meant to be absolute. Why do we still have resistance?”

His question was met with silence, none of his own officers willing to meet his eyes and those sent by her grandfather observing the scene with barely restrained smiles.

“No one has an answer for me? What about you?” he asked, turning his attention directly to the man seated on his right. One of her grandfather’s officers and the one failing the most noticeably at hiding his amusement.

The man straightened quickly, the smile fading from his mouth as he stared into Kylo’s helmeted face, eyes scanning in futile desperation as he searched for some indication of humanity. Finding none, he retreated behind his status as Palpatine’s soldier and sniffed disdainfully. “Perhaps if the Supreme Leader were as effective at controlling the galaxy as the emperor had once been, these problems would not exist. You should be grateful that he’s sent us and offered his help in securing the galaxy under your rule.”

“You think that I should be grateful,” Kylo mused. “I’m not so sure, because, you see, I think that Palpatine’s return has given people the idea that the First Order is not strong enough to hold the galaxy alone. They’ve gotten bolder, harder to control. I don’t like that at all.”

The officer sneered. “Maybe they’re right, maybe you aren’t strong enough to hold the galaxy alone. Darth Vader certainly wasn’t strong enough to lead witho…” He broke off, hands clawing desperately at his throat as his face turned purple and his eyes bulged.

Rey watched in amusement as he was ripped violently from his chair and thrown against the ceiling, the sound of cracking bone and pained moans leaving no doubt in the minds of those present that Kylo had done nothing to soften his landing. He remained there, struggling against the invisible bonds that held him and slowly suffocating while Kylo turned his attention back to the rest of the officers.

Most of them were either shifting their eyes restlessly between the severed head and the man on the ceiling or trying comically hard to appear uninterested.

“Underestimating my ability to control this galaxy is a fatal mistake,” he told them, his mask lingering for several long seconds on the remaining two of her grandfather’s officers. “Everything that Palpatine had is now mine. His empire, his legacy, even his granddaughter. Isn’t that right, Rey?”

Her eyes widened fractionally in surprise as she turned to look at him. Kylo had never addressed her directly during these meetings, preferring for her to stay quiet and play the role he’d assigned her. She wasn’t certain what sort of response he wanted her to give, but she could feel the roiling boil of emotion inside him and knew that his patience with the whole situation had worn thin.

She nodded jerkily, hoping her agreement was the reaction he wanted, and was rewarded with a gentle squeeze from the hand on her hip. Her relief, however, was short lived.

“Stand up,” he commanded her softly, the hand on her hip urging her to her feet and guiding her until she in front of him between his seat and the table. He was behind her and she glanced over her shoulder as he stood up to loom over her, the heat from his chest welcome as it nearly brushed against the cold exposed skin of her back.

He crowded into her, pressing his body against her until she shuffled forward until she ran out of room and her thighs bumped against the table’s edge. He placed one hand on her stomach, holding her in place as the other came to rest on her shoulder, pressing inexorably down until she bent at the waist, her face and chest coming to rest on the icy black surface of the table.

She turned until her cheek rested on the polished metal and her warm breath clouded the reflections of those who watched tensely, as perplexed about what he was doing as she was.

The cold suddenly began to creep up her legs as Kylo inched up the warming fabric of her gown, over her calves and past her knees and then her thighs until he could bunch a handful of it at the small of her back, leaving even the bare curve of her ass exposed as he jammed a knee between her thighs and spread her open, forcing her up on her toes in the process until she let out an undignified squeak. 

A single confused and humiliated tear slipped from her eye to splash onto the table as she met the gaze of a pale and thin-lipped general with red hair that was watching with a forced expression of stoicism, a muscle in his jaw jumping as he clenched his teeth.

He looked away when Kylo shoved two gloved fingers into her dry cunt, ripping an inhuman moan from her lips, and Kylo growled from behind her, “Don’t take your eyes off of her again.”

The general swallowed and turned back to face her and this time it was Rey who looked away, her mind scrambling to find some explanation for this behavior. Kylo had never hurt her, had offered her everything if she gave herself to him completely. He was angry, she could feel that still in the Force, beneath his rising desire, but his anger wasn’t directed at her.

He leaned forward, fisted a hand in her hair and lifted her back up, pinning her against him with one immovable arm and using the other to tug down the front of her gown until her breasts were exposed to the cold recycled air. She reached for him, her fingers digging into the thick sleeves of his black tunic as his dug into her breast, squeezing until she whimpered in pain.

“Does this make you uncomfortable?” he asked, turning to face the officers one by one and assessing their responses before moving on to the next. “Are you going to help her? She’s Palpatine’s granddaughter, after all. If he’s so important, so frightening, then shouldn’t you be afraid of what he might do if he found out I’ve mistreated her?”

No one moved or spoke and even the officer on the ceiling finally stopped struggling, losing his battle for air and letting the room lapse into the kind of all-encompassing silence that makes you forget you’ve ever heard sound.

“No?” Kylo asked, the only one in the room powerful enough to cut into the stillness without fear of repercussion. “And what about you, Rey? Are you going to leave?”

He let go of her, stepped back with his hands spread wide and left her standing alone, struggling to stay upright on legs that trembled. She knew instinctively not to move, not to try to run. Through the haze of fear and adrenaline her mind spins, grasping at his words for clues. Some part of her welcomes this vicious side of him and her connection to him isn’t dimmed, not even now, not even like this.

He had to have known that, of course, had to have been able to feel her responses through the Force. He’s settled and certain as she thinks, unbothered by the moments as they tick away and the room stares at her, awaiting her decision.

A Palpatine’s decision.

Ah.

This was her chance to prove who’s side she was on. He was tired of waiting, tired of playing her grandfather’s game. He was making his move, forcing her to choose publicly as she had chosen privately and make her allegiance known. If she chooses him now, lets him do this to her here in front of everyone, there will be no doubt that she believes he will be the victor in this power struggle.

Why else would she allow him to treat her this way?

She looked around at his officers, frozen in their chairs. They were also making a choice, showing how much they feared him.

Why else would they stay?

Lines were being drawn and loyalties tested. Rey had already known which side she would be on when it came to this and it was even easier than she had imagined it would be to turn her body to face him and reach her hand out for his.

“I’m not leaving,” she said firmly, the last of her words swallowed by a gasp as he moved, his body a blur as he gripped her and lifted her, setting her down on the table with her ass on the edge and his hips between her thighs.

He wasn’t done yet, she realized, giving in to the pressure of his hands on her shoulders as he guided her back until she was lying on the table like an offering to the Force gods with her dress bunched up on her stomach and his thick cock straining against the fabric of his pants as he nudged his hips to press it against the bare open slit of her cunt.

He reached for his helmet, pressed the hidden latch with his thumb and she watched eagerly as he pulled it off, shaking his head slightly so the rich dark curls of his hair would fall into place. He let it drop into the table beside her hip with a loud thunk as he looked, not at her, but at the rest of them.

The whispered words of love and loyalty between them were temporarily forgotten. She was an object now, a symbol of everything that he was about to lay claim to, and his eyes were hot and possessive when he finally brought them down to look at her.

She’d been frightened the first time she’d seen him, the mask making him seem more monster than man, but now his face was dear to her. She knew every line and shadow that comprised the long slope of his nose, the curve of his brows, the red pout of his lips.

They were parted now, his breath coming in slight pants from between the slightly crooked rows of his teeth. He was eager, pulsing with excitement for her and for power. He was strong and glorious in his brutality.

A dribble of wetness, evidence of the ache of wanting that she felt as she clenched around nothing, dripped onto the table between her thighs and he collected it on his fingertips and pressed it between her lips, past her teeth and onto her tongue.

She lifted her knees, curling her feet to hook around him and draw him in closer, happy to let the others see that she wasn’t just tolerating him, that she wanted him.

No, not let them see.

Make them see.

Let them have no doubt that he owned her and her cunt the same way that he owned all of them.

She didn’t bother to look to either side of her as he worked open the fastenings on his pants- the rest of them had already ceased to matter to her except as a necessary audience with a lesson to learn. His cock was already hard and jutted proudly up toward his stomach before he took it in hand and lined himself up with the slick entrance to her body.

She knew he’d done little to prepare her, and her eager wetness eased the slide as he pushed into her but did nothing to dull the effects of the rapid stretch as her body gave in to accommodate him. She tightened her legs around him, lifted her hips to meet him until he was buried to the base inside her.

The first time he’d fucked her, she’d thought he might tear her in two and sometimes she still wondered if it was possible. The sound that slipped out of her lips was more animal than human and she knew that this was one of those times.

He didn’t wait for her to adjust, or let her muscles relax around him, pulling nearly all the way out of her before snapping his hips and pounding back into her with a wet slap that should have left her feeling humiliated. Instead, she moaned, her mouth wrapping around a noise that was almost his name.

“Again,” she begged, lifting her hips to meet the next thrust and the one that followed.

“Say my name,” he demanded.

“Kylo,” she panted, but his hand wrapped around her throat, the press of his thumb cutting off just enough of her air to be a warning.

“Rey,” he said harshly.

“Daddy,” she amended, giving him the name he only wanted when his cock was buried deep inside her.

He removed his thumb, returning his hand to her hip as he murmured, “Good girl.”

He wasn’t careful or cautious this time, fucking into her roughly and only grunting his approval when she reached for clit and began to circle it in a rhythm that matched the relentless pace that he’d set.

Her orgasm left her gasping, arching her back off the table as her vision went white and she lost all sense of herself beyond the pulsating pleasure and the place where he was connected to her, not easing up in the slightest as he relentlessly fucked her through it.

When did finally come, coating her insides with warmth in waves that seemed to go on forever, he brushed his mind against hers, gifting her with the full unfettered strength of the bond between them. She lost herself in his emotions- amusement and approval and still the heady trace of desire.

He let her lay there quivering and stunned, hands splayed on her abdomen for a moment as he stared directly into her eyes. She was limp, her body still clenching around him as he softened inside her, but heat was rising in her cheeks as reality returned.

Kylo didn’t give her time to think or to feel, didn’t let the embarrassment get far enough into her mind to take root before he tightened his hands on her hips and tugged, her bare ass sliding across the surface of the table, now slick with her arousal and his come as it dribbled out of her.

He took a slight step back, made room for her to touch her wobbly feet to the floor before he used one massive, gloved hand on her shoulder to push her down, his thumb pressing into the delicate hollow of her throat to keep her protests silent on her lips until she knelt on her knees in front of him.

“Clean it up,” he demanded softly, jerking his chin down at the skin of his cock, still glistening from her body and dripping from the tip. “Not like that,” he corrected when she reached for the hem of her gown. “Use your mouth.”

She swallowed, turning her head almost imperceptibly to look over her shoulder. Rows of faces on either side of the table watched her in silent judgement, their faces impassive except for the thin disapproving lines of their lips and the slight tick that she could see in the red-haired general’s jaw.

It was harder to bend her pride without the thick fog of desire to cloud her mind.

Kylo gave her hair a rough tug and bumped his hips forward. “Don’t make me ask you again, princess.”

The subtle threat of violence was there, each word laced with an edge of menace that made her skin tingle with fear and anticipation, but it wasn’t the threat that made her open her mouth obediently and begin to lick and suckle him clean.

It was the look in his eyes, hot and dark and liquid but all pleading despite the deadly certainty in his voice. He would have forced her if she’d denied him, he couldn’t afford to do otherwise and show weakness in front of these sycophantic remnants of her grandfather’s cult, but he didn’t want to. He wanted her to continue to choose him in every way.

She worked him with her mouth until she was certain that she had erased all traces of herself from his skin and then gently tucked him back inside his clothes and closed the fastenings, smoothing the thick black fabric of tunic into place until it looked as though it had never been disturbed.

He was trembling slightly beneath her touch as she turned and curved her body around his leg, her head pressed trustingly to his thigh as she defiantly stared down each of the officers seated at the long table.

“Everything that belonged to the emperor will belong to me,” he said pointedly.

“The loyalty of a Sith whore is more easily acquired than control of the galaxy.”

The officer that had spoken sat across the table from the red-haired one. He was older and his face was pinched with smugness. He was clearly unaffected by the dead man lying at his feet, so confident in his own importance that he was certain that he was immune to sharing the same fate.

Kylo tensed and she felt his power coil at the edges of his mind but before he could react the man that had insulted her was clawing at his own throat desperate for air as the spit he couldn’t swallow began to drip from the corners of his mouth.

She could feel Kylo’s surprise as the man’s face began to purple and his eyes rolled back, leaving nothing showing but the whites, but it didn’t last long as he understood that she, too, was done playing games.

Maybe she should have asked first, but she was tired of listening to Pryde and she had learned enough of strategy from Kylo to know that now that she had made her choice and her loyalty was no longer it question, it was good for the officers to see her power, to realize that she could have fought him off at any point if she had wanted to.

They would have twice as much to fear, when they realized that she was as much a weapon as she was a pretty ornament.

Kylo must have come to the same realization. His approval was a pleasant hum in the Force as he bent his head slightly, lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “It feels good, doesn’t it? Giving in to the dark? We’ll do the same thing to your grandfather and then the galaxy will be ours.”

She smiled, tightening her grip on the general and watching gleefully as he struggled against the inevitable.

“You should know, General Pryde” he said a moment later, “that the Sith whore is the one that’s killing you.”

The others looked in alarm from Kylo, his body now relaxed and unconcerned, to her focused face. She didn’t take her eyes off of the officer until he slumped out of his chair onto the floor beside his equally mouthy companion.

Kylo extended his hand and helped her to her feet, still holding her as she leaned into him. “As I said, everything that belonged to Palpatine is going to be mine,” Kylo repeated.

The air was heavy with the threat in his promise and Kylo always kept his promises.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to make this a sort of nonlinear story about two bad people in love. It'll be just smutty scenes in whatever order I get the urge to write them. We may develop a plot or we might not, but there will definitely be some kink and some murdering. There is no regular update schedule planned for this so it's really just for fun. I'll be updating tags as I go.
> 
> This is their first time together!

She peeked her head over the pile of soft blankets that covered her naked form when the door to the room swept open soundlessly. He was loud, boots heavy on the floor and the constant swish of the black cape he wore, and she wanted sleep.

It seemed like sleep was all she had ever wanted, fatigue dragging at her limbs and pulling a dark curtain over her mind for as far back as her memories could stretch. Other people didn’t sleep as much as she did, and in the small spaces of time when the fog began to lift and her mind wasn’t so fuzzy, it bothered her. It was wrong, somehow. But then the droids came with another dose of her medicine and she couldn’t stay awake long enough to figure out exactly why.

The man, whose face she had never seen behind its horrible black mask, walked loudly to the side of the bed and lifted her chin with his finger, turning her face this way and that until she smacked at his hand irritably.

She hated him.

She hated that he had picked her up off her bare feet as soon as she stepped out of the shuttle that had brought her here from Exegol, his mask a terrifying sight when he pulled her roughly against him and took her directly to his own quarters. She hated that he’d stripped her naked and left bare after he’d ordered her clothes tossed down the nearest incinerator shaft, and then tucked her into his bed. She hated that he’d slept quietly beside her for the last three nights, when she’d been awake enough to feel his presence but not awake enough to open her eyes.

Mostly she just hated that he wouldn’t let her sleep.

“Wake up,” he said gruffly, his voice distorted behind the modulator. “Pryde said you’d be ready for another dose of that sedative today but since I had that droid disassembled, it must mean it’s time for you to wake up.”

“I can’t,” she croaked, throat dry and voice hoarse.

“They gave you extra for the journey,” he explained, sitting down on the side of the bed, and tipping his head to look at her curiously. “Didn’t want you trying to cause trouble.”

She swallowed hard and tried to shift, to push up on to her elbows and understand what he was telling her, but the room was swimming and she fell back against his pillows with a groan.

“Do you know what that tells me, little one?”

She shook her head, trying to focus as the darkness swam back up to claim her.

“It tells me you’re capable of causing them problems,” he murmured, his voice the last thing she heard before she lost the battle against sleep.

***

The room was dark when she woke again, but her mind was clearer. She shook her head slightly, trying to get her bearings in the dimly lit room. The only light was coming from the large viewport and the scattering of stars beyond.

She knew she must have been in space before- how else would she have gotten to Exegol and then to this ship- but she didn’t recall much of either journey.

The stars were beautiful and the dark sky beyond the boundaries of the ship was breathtaking. It was cold in the chamber- it always cold in space, though she couldn’t remember how she knew that- but something about the darkness warmed her.

“You’re awake now.”

It was a statement, not a question, and she didn’t recognize the voice at all. It was low and dark, powerful in a commanding way that reminded her of her grandfather, but warm.

Palpatine was never warm.

“I am,” she said softly, searching the room slowly with her eyes, searching for the source of the voice. “Where are you?”

“Are you hungry?” he asked instead of answering, and she swiveled her head in the direction of the noise. “Thirsty?”

“Yes,” she said immediately. “Both, please.”

“You’ve been asleep for almost five standard days,” he said, his voice suddenly not warm at all. It was cold and cruel and menacing. “Palpatine sedated you so much he nearly killed you.”

“Sedated?” she asked, tugging the blankets up over her chest.

She could see him now, the silhouette of him as he rose, towering and imposing, from his seat and reached for a button in the wall by the door.

“Yes, Supreme Leader?”

“Have someone bring up two trays,” he said, obviously not bothered by the face that it seemed to be the middle of the night. Or at least what passed for night in the cold darkness of space. “And water, a lot of it. My guest is thirsty.”

“Of course,” the voice in the wall responded, unfazed by his mention of having a guest in his chambers.

“Sedated?” she repeated, clutching the blanket to her chin as he turned to face her.

She could see a faint outline in the dim light of the communication panel. Enough to show her human features, a shock of soft hair, a long nose… He was younger than she’d expected, not old like her grandfather and Pryde.

Had she ever seen a man this young?

If she had, she had forgotten it along with so much else.

“How often did that droid give you that medicine?” he asked gruffly.

“Always,” she said. “I mean, every day.”

“For how long?”

She tried to remember, forcing her mind to try and search her memories. “Since I first arrived on Exegol. I’m not sure exactly how long ago that was. I was a child.”

“Palpatine must be very frightened of you,” he mused, and her jaw dropped in shock.

“My grandfather isn’t frightened of anything.”

“Then why would he bother to sedate a child?”

She closed her mouth with a snap, having no answer to that.

“Do you know why he sent you to me?”

She frowned, suddenly uneasy. “I think so,” she said hesitantly. “I was meant to make you happy.”

He grunted. “How?”

“However you like,” she said, parroting back her grandfather’s instructions.

“Do you know what that means?”

She shook her head. “Should I?”

He laughed, a harsh and bitter crack in the small space. “No, I suppose not.”

“Does that make you angry?”

“Not at you,” he said quietly.

“At my grandfather?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Apparently he thought a pretty little virgin in my bed would be enough of a distraction for him to rip the galaxy away from me. Do you know how big the galaxy is, little one? How powerful you have to be to rule it?”

She shook her head, a frisson of fear working up her spine.

“A billion planets,” he supplied. “All held in my fist. Do you think all of that is worth losing for your pretty pink cunt? Palpatine is a fool if he thought one sedated little girl would be enough to cause me to lose sight of how dangerous he is.”

“Maybe he just wanted to get rid of me,” she offered.

“Or a handy excuse to get Pryde and the others inside the First Order,” he muttered. “Or all of that, though I can’t imagine why he’d want to get rid of you.”

“He hates me,” she said truthfully. “I know he does. I can feel it.”

“You can  _ feel _ his hatred?”

He sounded surprised but she was spared the need to answer when the door opened and a droid walked in with two food trays, each of them with several cups balanced in the center. The droid was silent as it set the trays on the nearest table and left the room again.

She could smell food and her stomach rumbled, but she eyed him hesitantly. He was still no more than a figure in the dark and she didn’t know what he might do if she tried to eat without his permission.

“You can feel his hatred?” he asked again, walking to the table and grabbing a tray before sitting down on the bed beside her.

“Yes,” she said, he was close enough now that she might have been able to see his face if she had looked, but her gaze was locked on his long, supple fingers as he picked up a piece of bread and broke off a bite sized chunk.

“Open,” he commanded, waiting silently until she reluctantly parted her lips before gently placing the bread on her tongue.

“What else can you feel?” he asked, and she could sense his eyes on her face as she chewed.

“Pryde when he’s angry,” she said, trying to get the words out quickly so that he might give her another bite. “The fear of the victim when the acolytes need to make a sacrifice…and you.”

He held up another bite of bread and she opened her mouth without being told.

“Me?”

She nodded vigorously. “Before we even landed on the ship. I was so tired, but I could feel you.”

He held up another bite and she opened obediently, but instead of moving his arm to place it inside her mouth he simply opened his fingers and watched intently as it floated from his hand to settle gently on her tongue. A ripple of something, some uneasy energy, stirred around her.

“Did you feel that?” he asked, and she nodded.

“It rippled,” she answered, her mouth still full of bread. “Did you do that?”

“Yes,” he said, plucking another bite from the tray and popping it into his own mouth as she watched enviously. “And so could you. You need a teacher. I could show you the ways of the Force.”

“The Force?” It sounded ridiculous even as she said it. She lived in a Sith temple on Exegol, of course she knew what the Force was…she’d just never given it much thought.

She’d been too tired to think.

“What you feel, that’s the Force,” he explained. “Not everyone can feel it, can move it and manipulate it, but you’re special.”

“I’m not special,” she argued. “I’m nobody.”

His smile was a bright flash of white in the shadows. “Not to me.”

“You don’t even know my name,” she said reasonably, her mouth working around a fresh bite. They’d finished the bread on this tray, and he’d given her a piece of ripe fruit, the juice of it sweet and tangy as she hummed delightedly.

“Well?”

“Rey,” she said before waiting several pointed and ultimately pointless beats for him to respond. “And you?”

“Kylo,” he said after a moment. “Kylo Ren.”

She opened her mouth again, waiting for him to notice and provide her with another mouthful of food and he stared down at her for several long beats before setting a slice of fruit in her mouth. He ran a thumb over the curve of her bottom lip, swiping a drop of juice from the skin there before sucking it into his own mouth.

She shuddered, her body reacting to the contact.

“Did no one ever touch you?” he asked curiously, and she knew he’d seen the tremor as I ran through her.

“Never,” she admitted. “My grandfather didn’t raise me to be loved. I was kept and grown as a sacrifice for the acolytes. I wasn’t good enough for anything else.”

“More like he knew how powerful a sacrifice would be with your blood,” he murmured. “I’m going to kill him.” He said it calmly, simply, in a tone that allowed for no argument. “Before he can do whatever it is that he has planned for me, you, or the galaxy.”

She thought about it, blinking at Kylo in the dark of his bedchamber as she chewed sweet fruit from his fingertips. Palpatine had never done anything at all for her and if Kylo’s guesses about him keeping her sedated and the reasons why were correct…

“Okay,” she said, reaching for the tray where it sat between them and picking up the last piece of fruit.

He watched her, the light of his eyes narrowing to suspicious slits as she raised it toward his mouth, but he opened his lips and let her feed him. “You don’t mind that I’m going to kill him?”

“No,” she said. “I’ll help you.”

***

She spent the next several days sleeping off the last of the sedative, able to keep her eyes open for longer each day that passed. Kylo was gone most of the time, but he made sure that she was kept well fed and that there was a succession of droids that checked on her throughout the day.

He’d had new clothes brought from somewhere, and she woke on the morning of the third day with enough energy to slip a black dress over her head and sit at a nearby table while she nibbled on a breakfast of fresh fruit and some sort of thinly sliced meat that she’d never eaten before.

The viewport showed still stars once again and she looked out curiously. The other times she had woken the view beyond the bedchamber had been of white lines zipping by as they moved through hyperspace. Kylo had explained it to her, though he hadn’t told her where they were going.

Wherever it was, they must have arrived, and he had left the room even earlier than he normally did, the door closing behind his caped form long before the ship’s automated systems even turned the lights on to signal the start of their day.

She still hadn’t gotten a proper look at his face, since he came back after dark and left before she woke, but he was the only person that she had seen since she’d arrived, and she found that she missed the sound of his voice when she was awake.

A cup of water clattered to the floor, slipping from her startled fingers when the door opened behind her and Kylo strode into the room.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, reaching for it and trying to pretend she wasn’t staring. It was far too early for him to be back and the lights above were still on and shining brightly down on him as he waved an impatient hand in her direction.

“Leave it,” he commanded. “I’ll get a droid to clean it.”

She nodded wordlessly, mouth still slightly parted as she looked him over. The expensive black fabric of his clothing was mud splattered and the helmet he usually wore when outside the chamber was set casually against his hip. There was dirt and blood caked on the bare skin of his face and sweat drenched the black curls of his hair, but it did nothing to detract from the sheer beauty of him.

His eyes were heavy lidded and brown, warm like the sands of a desert planet that she could barely remember and set above a nose that was prominent and proud. His lips were plump and pink and softened a look that would have been too harsh otherwise since he was all sharp shadows and cutting lines.

She had been able to tell, even the dark, that he was a big man, but in the artificial light of day he was huge, his neck and thighs and the broad spread of his chest intimidating even though she had never been as short as most of the female acolytes on Exegol.

“You’re awake,” he remarked, dropping the helmet on the table beside her breakfast with a clang that made her jump.

“You’re here,” she replied, running one curious finger over the silver lines beside the eyes of his helmet.

“The battle was quick,” he said, dropping into the seat opposite her and watching her with an intensity that made her squirm.

“You were fighting?”

He certainly looked like he had been, and he smelled of sweat and dirt and something subtle and metallic that she thought might be blood.

It wasn’t entirely unappealing.

“Does that bother you?”

“No,” she said honestly and quickly, not letting herself think too much or too deeply about why.

“You feel something, but you don’t recognize it for what it is,” he said, leaning back in his chair and spreading his legs wide. “Come here.”

She rose on unsteady legs to cross the space between them obediently and stand between his thighs. This close she could see the green flecks in his eyes and the scattering of brown spots that crossed his nose and cheeks.

She might have had those if she’d been permitted to grow up in sunlight.

“Do you know what this is?” he asked, holding up a filthy hand for her to examine.

“Dirt and blood,” she replied.

“Death and power,” he corrected. “You want both of those things, I can feel it in you.”

“I don’t want to die,” she said quietly, resisting the urge to step back and hide herself from his probing gaze.

“You want to wield death,” he said gently, placing one bloody hand on each of her hips and tugging her closer. “I can teach you how to command it. To wield the power that was denied to you.”

Desire hummed between them, sharp and greedy. She knew he could feel it because she could feel its twin in him. Whatever dark things lived inside her, his were clearly the same.

“Why would you do that? Instead of trying to keep me hidden away and useless like my grandfather?”

“I appreciate a deadly weapon,” he said with a grin. “And I have uses for you that your grandfather certainly didn’t.”

She frowned down at him. “Like what?”

“ _ This, _ ” he said, scooping her up and depositing her on his lap, forcing her legs to widen and settle on either side of his hips.

“Wha-,” she gasped, her body bucking against him as he caught the skin of her neck in the firm grip of his teeth.

The soft noise she made seemed to do nothing but spur him on and as his fingers left a tapestry of bruises on her breasts and hips and thighs, she could feel the pent-up energy swirling around him. Remnants of the battle and the destruction he’d wielded so effortlessly.

“Pretty,” he said harshly, tugging up the hem of her skirt and bunching it around her waist. “Pretty and perfect and  _ mine _ .”

She wasn’t sure what it was about that word, or the blooms of pain that lingered everywhere he touched her, but an unfamiliar heat was blossoming inside her and she was more frightened of that than she was of him.

“Kylo,” she whined, rocking her hips against him instinctively.

He stilled for a moment, breath ragged in her ear. “You have no idea what’s happening, do you?” His voice was strained and he hadn’t let his grip on her ease even a fraction.

She shook her head, shame pinking her cheeks as she avoided his eyes.

His response was a low rumble of satisfaction before he squeezed her chin in his hand and pressed his mouth to hers possessively before sliding his tongue inside through the shocked open space between her lips.

She had been right, his kiss was soft and his limps plump as they slanted over hers, commanding the response that he wanted from her as she tried eagerly to keep up.

“Such an eager little thing,” he said. “My very good girl.”

The words were like liquid fire in her veins, more potent than any medicine her grandfather had ever given her. They hit all of the empty spaces inside her where she had never been given love or softness or kindness.

“Do you like to be touched?” he asked, his hands spanning the expanse of her waist and thumbs caressing the underside of her breasts.

“Yes,” she gasped, arching her back to bring herself closer to him.

“Would you like to touch me?”

She froze, staring at his face—so close to her own—with wide disbelieving eyes. She hadn’t considered that she would be allowed to touch him, too.

“I don’t know how,” she admitted, but she wanted to learn, and she hoped he could feel her desperation.

“Any way you want to,” he instructed. “You don’t have to ask anyone for permission for anything anymore. Not in this room, anyway.”

She let her hands slide tentatively over his chest, the pillowed fabric of his tunic doing nothing to disguise the muscle beneath, and watched his eyes darken with pleasure. The effect that she had on him was heady and it made her feel strong in a way she never had before.

He would teach her to deal death and wield power and all she had to give him was her loyalty and this. It seemed too small a price to pay when he was the only person who had ever been kind to her and the feeling of his skin on hers was so delicious.

He shuddered in a deep breath and she smiled a little, emboldened by his reaction to her touch. He had kissed her everywhere she had bare skin to kiss and she did the same to him now, leaning forward to place her mouth on his neck, the erratic beat of his pulse racing beneath her lips.

He tipped his head back, giving her access to lean into him, her breasts pressed firmly against his chest as she kissed a path along his jaw.

“Rey,” he growled, a plea and a warning that she ignored as she licked a broad stripe over his neck and up the side of his cheek. He tasted of sweat and ash and death and she was hungry for everything that flavor symbolized.

He grabbed her behind the knees and lifted her up, tossing her carelessly over his shoulder as he carried her toward the bed. He maneuvered her as though she weighed almost nothing, his muscles rippling beneath her stomach where it pressed into his shoulder.

She landed on the soft surface with a jarring little bounce, her teeth clacking together loudly enough to have him grinning down at her as he tugged his tunic over his head and kicked off his boots.

His chest was wider and his shoulders broader when she had the full uncovered expanse of it bare to her eyes. Each movement sent a tremor through the muscles that flexed beneath his skin and she watched, transfixed, as he shoved his pants down over his hips. Her fascination turned to embarrassment when the long and thick protrusion that rose from the dark patch of hair between his legs bobbed up proudly to rest against the flat plane of his stomach.

She’d never seen a naked man before and hadn’t had the energy on Exegol to spend much time wondering about what they looked like beneath their clothes. Even if she had, she was certain that it wouldn’t have looked anything like  _ this _ .

A squeak of surprise slipped from her lips when he nudged her legs apart with his knee and settled between her thighs, forcing her dress back up over her hips in the process and rubbing himself aggressively against the core of her with nothing to separate her body from his except the thin fabric of her undergarments.

A wave of fear swept over her, not of him but of the unknown, and he nipped impatiently at her earlobe.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, and his voice was deeper and rougher in her ear than it had ever been before. “I’m not going to give you anything until you want it, until you beg for it.”

She should have been grateful that he was being kind and patient, but she couldn’t stop the question from coming. “Why?”

“You’re mine,” he said, shifting his weight on top of her until he could hold her chin in his hand and stare firmly into her eyes. “I need you to know that. I could make you, but you wouldn’t want me. You’re going to want to be mine, you’re going to want to give me  _ everything _ .”

She thought she understood that, that it reflected her own newly discovered greed. She wanted everything he had, it wasn’t surprising that he felt the same, even if she had so much less to give.

“Please,” she said quickly, eager to give him what he wanted but unsure what it was that she was asking for.

“No,” he said, shaking his head at her until a stray lock of her hair fell over his forehead and into his eyes. “You have to want it.”

“I…”

He cut her off, dipping his head to kiss her and sink his teeth into her lip until she squirmed beneath him and whined.

“I’ll make you want it,” he told her with such confidence that she could only shiver as he sucked a path of bruises down her neck. She felt the irritation rise in him when his lips met the neckline of her gown and he shifted, sitting up and moving away from her just enough that he could get a grip on the thin fabric and tear it straight down the middle.

She gasped as the cold recycled air hit her chest, but he didn’t more than just a moment to feel the shock of it before he descended on her with his mouth, sucking one nipple between his lips and caressing it with his tongue as she writhed and tugged fruitlessly at his hair.

Her only reprieve was the time it took him to turn his head from one breast to the other and each time a flick of his tongue sent an answering shockwave through her body, heat running through her veins and pooling low in her stomach. There was a gathering tension there, a need for something that she couldn’t name but desperately wanted.

“Kylo,” she panted. “Kylo, please.”

“Not yet,” he soothed but he was merciful enough to let go of her breast and skim his face and over her stomach. His nose traced a line of fire down her body until it bumped the edges of her tattered bodice and then he grunted, annoyed at the barrier, and sank his teeth into the soft flesh just below her navel.

She arched her hips, bucking against the pain until he let her go. She didn’t have to look to know she’d have bruises in the shape of his teeth. He’d left a trail of marks over her, laying claim to his territory as he explored her, and something about the thought of it was enough to make her tremble with need.

Someone wanted her.

Wanted to keep her and claim her and never throw her away or use her as a disposable vessel for temporary power.

“ _ Please _ ,” she said again, her voice higher and more impatient.

“Not yet,” he said, maddeningly patient as he lifted her skirts over her hips and nibbled his way up the inside of one thigh and then the other.

Each soft graze of his teeth made her jump, her senses heightened as she anticipated the pain that she thought was coming. She tensed when he tugged her undergarments down over legs, his blunt fingers brushing against her hips and her thighs and her knees in the process.

She could feel him, hovering her and surrounding her as he loomed large and insistent on the bed, but also in her mind where his thoughts were dark and hungry, an eerie echo of her own awakening need. The energy between them grew more voracious with each breath, each of their needs bouncing to the other only to be returned magnified and enhanced until she was dizzy with the force of it.

His lips closing aggressively around her core should have shaken her, unnerved her, but she could feel how much he wanted it, how desperately he craved and how sweet he found the flavor of her. When his tongue parted her flesh and began a demanding exploration, she sank her fingers into his hair, tangling and twisting and holding him in place as her soft pleas became loud ringing shouts and her hips bucked up off the soft bed to the rhythm of his mouth.

His fingers on her hips gripped and held her, pressing her down and urging to her stillness as he replaced his exploring tongue with the length of his fingers, unerringly seeking and then dipping inside a place that she hadn’t known existed. A place that she was suddenly sure must have been created just for him, maybe right at that moment, because it fit around his slowing curving fingers like they were meant to be there.

Surely this was an even better use of his hands than wielding his saber in battle.

“Please,” she begged, her mouth forming the word again and again as something built and tightened inside her. She didn’t know what it was, but she knew that he could give it to her and that she wanted it more than she had ever wanted anything.

He pulled his hand away, leaving her bereft and confused as he rose over her and settled his hips between her thighs. He kissed her, his mouth carrying a taste that she realized must have come from her own body, and she felt him push against the body again.

This was much larger than his fingers, and even in her eagerness the pressure was soon nearly too much, and tears formed at the corners of her eyes.

He hushed her softly, his mouth finding the soft skin of her lips and the quickened pulse point in her neck as he hooked a hand behind her knee and lifted it higher, opening her up further to his determined probing. He rocked against her, taking more of the room inside her with each persistent thrust, and he didn’t stop until he was buried in her as far as he could go.

“Pretty,” he grunted, kissing her again and nipping at her bottom lip. “And mine.”

“Yours,” she agreed, rolling her hips to test the sensation of being so full of him. The worst of the discomfort was gone and both of them sucked in a breath at her experimental movement.

“ _ Mine _ ,” he said again, pulling out of her and sliding back in as she moaned. “And you feel so  _ good.” _

_ Good _

She wanted to hear more of that word on his lips, to drink in his praise and his approval. It was life, the same as cool drops of water on her cracked and bleeding lips had been life in the desert. He filled her with his body, caressed her mind with his thoughts, and soothed a broken and empty heart with his praise.

Fresh arousal sent a wave of want and wetness straight to her core and she clutched him to her, her fingers digging into his back and her legs tightening on his hips.

He seemed to like that, satisfaction and pride swelling inside him and bumping against the edges of her mind. There was something else there, something familiar that hovered just as the edges of his consciousness.

It wasn’t until she began to whimper and plead with him, her head thrown back and cries for more echoing in the air around them, that she recognized it for what it was. The same feeling of awe and utter completeness that she felt.

She wasn’t alone.

He felt it, too.

She gave herself over to him completely, her senses filled with the smell of dirt and blood and sex and the sound of his body slapping against hers with each snap of his hips. His pace was brutal, his use of her ruthless and greedy, but he drew along with him and the tension in her body began to build again.

She could feel the same need for _ something  _ building in him, but unlike her he seemed to know exactly what it was and how to achieve it. She was uncertain, frightened of the intensity and what might happen if she allowed herself to surrender to it.

“Let go,” he commanded. “You’re still holding on. Let go.” His eyes were dark, nearly black as he looked down at her, but she did not doubt him. She had only to do as he instructed and he would always take care of her, she could sense it.

She allowed herself to relax and let him carry over the edge into oblivion. 


End file.
